


the flowers along our path to love

by whiteautumn



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Idols, Anxiety, Aoi and Yuusaku are an idol duo, Aoi-Yuusaku-Miyu friendship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Spectre and Ryouken try so hard, minor dss, very brief cameos of other gen's characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteautumn/pseuds/whiteautumn
Summary: 5 + 1 where Spectre tries, Aoi fails to get the hint, and Miyu and Yuusaku play the peanut gallery.It works out anyway.
Relationships: Fujiki Yuusaku/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Spectre/Zaizen Aoi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	the flowers along our path to love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jczala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jczala/gifts).



> This originated as a prompt from jczala as an attempt from me to write more het romance so this is dedicated to her. Thank you so much, Zala-san!
> 
> However, this is also set in a wider universe I've been playing around with, where Yuusaku and Aoi form an idol duo. The Lost Incident is still A Thing but Yuusaku is better adjusted because he has friends, and Aoi and Miyu reunite at a young age. More information is down below, if anyone's interested :P. 
> 
> My first extensive venture into blueghost, hope this is alright!

_one. thyme – courageous behaviour_

It started at a fansign event.

Aoi had been dreading that day. While fans were a delight to have as an idol, and she loved dancing and singing and performing on stage to bring everyone joy, her ability to charm her fans was triggered by the stage and ended the moment she stepped off it.

She’s pretty sure that Yuusaku felt the same; the way his eyes were more sullen than usual is a dead giveaway.

“I can’t do this,” she starts, darting forward to clutch at Yuusaku’s hands. Her childhood friend stiffens at the sudden contact but relaxes immediately when he looked up at her, fingers curling against her own in an attempt to offer whatever comfort he could scrape up from his own psyche.

“We both hate this,” she continues, voice harsh, and sniffs indignantly when Yuusaku nods in agreement. “We both hate this!” she reiterates, “so why are we doing this?”

“Because we’re unfortunate enough that the job scope requires us to do more than giving action on stage, Aoi,” Yuusaku replies drily, and Aoi rolls her eyes at his choice of words, deliberate, no doubt.

“This is what happens when you put two socially inept individuals in an idol group.” She releases Yuusaku’s hand and turns back to continue pacing about. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened to you the last time.” Yuusaku’s expression pinches at the reminder, eyes dark and sharp as he glares at her, then the floor.

Obsessed fans like Shima Naoki were common in their line of work, they encountered them enough for both of them to get acclimatised to the knowledge that there were people who are out there being utterly one-sidedly in love with them, and they had no way to know more.

Senpai had told them once that it’s better to not think about it.

“Better for your sanities, I can confirm.” His voice had been dry, brown eyes filled with amusement.

People like Shima? She and Yuusaku could handle – they learned how to – them. However, Kougami Ryouken is a creepy piece of work whose good looks and family heritage kept him from being officially labelled a stalker. News outlets and tabloid journals had raved for days about how his obnoxiously grand display of affection and confession to Yuusaku had been sweet and romantic, girls swooning over the gesture while boys moaned about insane benchmarks.

Yuusaku? He’d looked like he just wanted to disappear.

Aoi felt him.

“He’s still texting me.” There’s a hint of exasperation in his voice, and it’s only thanks to her degree of intimacy with him that she catches it hidden under layers of frustration, embarrassment and annoyance.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t want that,” she snaps, raising her arms slightly and shrugging when Yuusaku huffs at her.

“Aoi-chan, Yuusaku’s case was a freak event, you know that, right?” They turn to the door, where their other best friend stood. Sugisaki Miyu glides into the room, steps slow and gentle, washing off their duo looks of surprise at her sudden entrance.

“Miyu-chan!” She flies forward to catch the brunette in a hug, giggling when Miyu wraps her own arms around her waist in return. “What are you doing here? When did you get out? Are you even allowed out?”

“For moral support, I know you two would be nervous after what happened the last time.” She smiles, and Aoi calms, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. Miyu frees a hand from her hug to reach up and squeeze Aoi’s shoulders gently, prompting Aoi to look back down into her grey eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Aoi-chan,” she whispers, and Yuusaku steps forward to rest his hands on both of their shoulders, expression firm and steady in agreement.

Aoi takes three deep breaths. Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four. Rinse and repeat.

It’ll be okay. Kougami Ryouken is a weirdo and Yuusaku’s the unfortunate creep magnet – her heart goes out to him and she tries her best to support him, but she really wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, and won’t judge even if she thinks Yuusaku might be falling for his stalker – Aoi’s going to be fine.

No matter what the ominous feeling churning in her stomach says otherwise.

\--

But of course, it wasn’t fine.

The journey to the venue had been smooth, Kusanagi-san had met up with them at their practice room when Miyu was still around. He’d been surprised to see Miyu there, but promised to let her trespassing slip upon Yuusaku and Aoi’s insistence.

Miyu had giggled and promised to let him know which places could be especially vulnerable to crazy fans trying to sneak into the building to meet their idols.

Yuusaku had plugged his headphones in and settled for staring out the window the moment they settled into the SUV, leaving Aoi to bid a cheerful goodbye to their other best friend, who looked healthier under the sunlight than in months.

Miyu had grinned at her and promised to return to the hospital as soon as she saw them both off.

Then, it had been an almost torturous fifteen minute of waiting and finger wringing, before Yuusaku finally took off his right AirPod and offered it to her wordlessly.

Aoi had latched onto that offer like a fish swimming about excitedly after being returned to water, accepting the tiny device gingerly but quickly.

Restlessness latched onto her as the vehicle pulled into the parking lot, an energy vibrating in the same frequency as Yuusaku started to get antsy as well. There was a huge group of people gathered at Den City Square.

They are fans, and they’re all waiting for them.

Thank all heavens above for security detail. Or, rather, Aoi mentally chastises herself, thank her brother for security detail.

She and Yuusaku watch with sharp eyes from behind tinted windows as the men dressed in dark polo shirts and pants herded the fans back into disciplined lines.

The dizziness is back again, and before her world twists on her feet, she takes another trio of deep breaths, becoming aware of another breathing in sync with hers.

Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for four. The dizziness doesn’t disappear completely, but it’s there, reduced to a bare smidge of feeling in her stomach that’s not too strong to be uncomfortable, but not enough to be ignored.

She can do this.

They both pull out their mirrors and give their hair and makeup one last check, Aoi smoothing down the folds of her skirt and Yuusaku adjusting his jacket, putting on his light grey shades.

Their eyes meet, and Aoi made sure to plaster a cute smile on her face, Yuusaku mirroring with a smile bigger than what he gives out naturally, a tad bit shy.

Show time.

Screams and shrieks pierce their eardrums, ignited with passion and adoration, the moment Yuusaku opens the door. Aoi feels quite apologetic sometimes, for capitalising off their almost-worship of her and Yuusaku when they knew nothing about them as people. Other times, she drowns in that same adoration.

It’s the reality of the industry, and Emma’s advice had been to think about it positively – they are bringing these people joy and entertaining them.

Her eyes meet light blue, and she pauses in her walk.

The ashen-haired boy smiles at her, and the world blurs around him. For a moment, the screams and flashes around her die down, and there’s only a burst of blue glow.

A gentle touch on her shoulder, and she snaps her attention back to Yuusaku, spell broken. His question is clear even with the cover of his shades.

Turning back, the ashen-haired male had long disappeared into the throngs of the crowd, replaced by screaming still clambering for their attention.

They’re like zombies, Aoi thinks briefly before she shoves that thought out of her mind. Rude. She shouldn’t be thinking about her fans this way.

Kusanagi-san leads them both towards the stage, stopping at the edge of it, where small steps led up to the low platform where they were supposed to be introduced to the crowd. The emcee for the event – some blonde dressed in a cowboy’s getup – chirps away at the hollering crowd, bouncing off the heels of her feet.

At least someone is feeling jolly.

Aoi turns to check on Yuusaku, finding him scanning the crowd, a gentle pinch in his forehead the only clue to the frown that’s not masked by his shades, and she recalls not seeing anyone with stark white hair in the crowd.

Melissa Claire introduces herself and shoots the crowd a dazzling smile – more than what Aoi and Yuusaku will ever be able to offer – before gesturing to them, unveiling them to the world with a grand sweep of her right arm. 

Yuusaku pulls off his shades, and the blue curtains fall to present a pleasant smile that makes the heart of fangirls – and boys – race.

Aoi keeps her lips lifted in what she knows is a pretty smile and takes the lead.

The brief interview passes by in a flash, as often happens with her memories at events like that, and Aoi finds herself seated at the tables set out below the stage, sharpies and a water in her favourite bottle beside her, Yuusaku not far away from her at his own table.

She loves her fans, she really does. The sweet messages they leave for her and their support at events never fail to flood her heart with warmth. However, all she feels right now is coldness in her limbs and sweat in her palms, and she takes a deep breath.

A hand reaches over discretely to grasp hers, the touch gentle and reassuring, and she looks down in surprise at Kusanagi-san, who smiles at her as he makes a show of taking his time to pick up her blanket, which had fallen from the back of her seat.

Her back melts into the chair, she takes a deep breath and look back up. The crowd looks less daunting now. She can do this. She’s done it before, and she can do it again.

The fans pass by, and Aoi tries her best to talk with them as much as possible, asking for their names and signing the albums as legibly as possible. It’s an exciting rhythm, one that’s not necessarily old or new but easy to follow and offers her different stories each time she does.

Yuusaku receives a plushie of himself.

Aoi gets a beautiful pair of wing earrings, handmade, she runs her finger over the soft feathers that adorned the accessory, astonished.

She thanks that particular fan – her name’s Sayuri, and she had a really charming smile – with a beam that looked and felt equally genuine for once.

“Next,” Kusanagi-san calls out, and Aoi blinks up at the familiar shades of ash and blue.

It’s that person.

“Hello,” she greets politely but cheerfully, still riding on her previous high. He sets his album down on her table, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile that dampened her slightly. “Your name, please?”

“It’s Spectre,” he answers, and that’s a weird name if Aoi had ever heard one, but she figured it’s a moniker, so she shrugs it off mentally and run her pen across the hard cover of the CD – a premium edition, which came with a set of four postcards, placed in at random from a count of eight – scrawling the name out in katakana.

He’s probably about Yuusaku and Aoi’s age judging by his looks and his voice, but if Aoi had to guess, he might be from quite a well-off background. His clothes are discrete, but branded – she recognised that [suit](https://jp.louisvuitton.com/jpn-jp/products/fall-winter-2020-look-10-nvprod2400168v) design from a luxury brand’s latest seasonal collection, Yuusei-senpai had been debating with his partner-cum-stylist over what they should wear for their next photoshoot and Aoi had been summoned for her opinion when she happened to walked past their studio.

Different, Aoi thinks as she hands the album back with her plastered idol smile, boys their age don’t usually wear suits around anymore.

Spectre hums a gentle thanks, eyes roving around her table, before settling on Aoi, light blue eyes piercing into hers, holding her in place. He tilts his head slightly as he continues to drill holes into her.

“Why do you choose to act like a childish idol, Aoi? It makes you uninteresting.”

Kusanagi-san tenses beside her, and Aoi’s entire being freezes, joins locked up and tense. Spectre continues before Kusanagi-san could speak up, “baseless cheer,” he slides over a pause, “makes Blue Angel a boring idol.”

And turns around and leaves, lifting a hand to wave lightly as he exits the venue, leaving Aoi gaping, ugly.

* * *

_two. pomegranate flowers - foolishness_

The news of her breakdown was plastered over the main page of tabloid gossip, and Aoi shut herself in her room for days. Not to cry, but to sulk.

She had remained frozen after Spectre had long gone, unresponsive to Kusanagi-san – who had to call for a break immediately after, and if the journalists and photographers hadn’t picked up on that, no one would – and barely to Yuusaku, who’d looked over and reached for her when he had realised something was wrong.

_Blue Angel Interrupts Event With Panic Attack On Stage?_

_Photos from_ sixth. _’s event showing how Zaizen Aoi is Not Alright_

_Generation sixes worry about Blue Angel after breakdown_

With the exception of Kusanagi-san, no one had heard what Spectre had said to her. She had no interest in telling anyone else what had gone down, even Yuusaku and Miyu, who had both tried hard to weasel the truth out of her. Her brother had messaged her at three in the morning, concerned, but Aoi had placated him easily with repeated replies of _I’m okay_ , and _I’m really fine, nii-sama_.

It was not far from the truth. She hadn’t ruined the event completely, the best thing amidst this whole mess. After the initial shock, it was replaced by a fire in her that burned and urged her to show Spectre just who the boring one was.

She found friends and reconnected with old ones through being an idol; and she made people happy. He doesn’t get to take that away from her.

* * *

_three. lavender – doubt, distrust_

The next time she sees him, it’s in a crowd.

It was a mini live performance for a brand that they served as ambassadors for, and it was just a brief moment of eye contact, but their first meeting had been glaring enough for Aoi that she recognised who she was looking at immediately.

Aoi hadn’t even looking for him, she had been pouring her soul out on stage, shaping them into the joyous lines Yuusaku crafted and delivering energy while her partner mirrored her dance movements beside her.

Then, Spectre – is that actually his real name? – came into her view and she slid slightly, barely catching herself in time to return to position. As she turns, so does Yuusaku and she feels his questioning gaze for a moment as he completes the movement.

It’s nothing compared to Spectre’s burning gaze from down below, however.

The other had secured a seat in the VIP zone, where the tickets were sold at the highest price category. For someone who claimed he hated Aoi’s fake cheerfulness, he spent a lot of time and money attending their events.

She pushes the thought of him out of her mind and avoided looking in that direction for the rest of the performance. Hopefully, the bad taste that the dark, bitter ball of steel in her stomach leaves in her mouth doesn’t show.

* * *

_four. field horsetail - surprise_

The fourth time, Aoi bumps into him at a convenience store near her home, wakame salads, two cups of instant miso soups, onigiris and a bowl of spicy instant yakisoba in her basket as she sneaks around the area, peaking into the freezer to seek out and grab a Calpis bar. Yuusaku had been very specific about his ice cream order this time.

Done. Now all she has to do is go grab a cream puff on her way to the cashier – even idols like her love their sweets. Satisfied with her completed mission, she turns –

Bumping straight into someone’s chest. Her cap slips, and she adjusts it in a haste, pulling the peak down before it falls off completely.

“Oya?” Her heart ramrods into her throat, and she looks up at the person she’d collided into with wide eyes.

Spectre returns her look with amusement, light blue eyes darting to the cap, to her surgical mask and to the items in her basket.

“Spicy yakisoba and ice cream when you’re ill? That’s not good for you, you know?” He might not have noticed it’s her, Aoi thinks hopefully, his mirth could really be due to the fact that an ill person is thinking of eating instant noodles and ice cream.

Clearing her throat, she speaks as softly and as nasally as her body allows, “it’s not for me. It’s for my friend.” Spectre hums in acknowledgement, before speaking, “sending an ill person out on an errand? That’s not very nice of them, no?”

Her head spins as she tries to come up with comebacks, but Spectre merely smiles at her, setting something into her basket with a soft crinkling of plastic, before turning away, whispering his next words.

“Take care of yourself, Aoi.”

She watches him exit the store under a fanfare of characteristically cheery _ding dong_ and continues to gape behind her mask even after his silhouette disappears into the orange and pink horizon beyond the glass automatic doors.

He’d set a white plastic bag containing a vanilla cream puff in her basket, Aoi had no idea how he knew it’s her favourite flavour. The young cashier gives her a smile that lingered on the edge of being secretive when she arrives to make payment, but otherwise makes no comment.

If Yuusaku noticed her puzzled expression as she opened the package and bit into the dessert that night, he didn’t comment on it.

* * *

_five. lilies – innocence, purity_

The fifth time - Aoi thinks she should probably count it as the first, in hindsight - a specific letter that changed everything.

Fan mail are extremely common in their line of work, and while the company vets through the letters they get to make sure there’s nothing harmful in them, they do get the letters back to read through and even reply if they wished.

Aoi has been receiving such letters around the time of their debut – specifically, she’s been receiving letters from a male fan who had included pressed flowers in every one of his letters.

The letter offered no return address, just their duo’s group name and the company’s address.

She had kept every one of the letters and hoped that one day hana-anon-san (thank you, creative Sugisaki Miyu-chan) will give her a return address so that she can reply to his sweet letters.

The latest one – she hums gently, voice travelling warm and content throughout her apartment, running her finger over a delicate petal of a dry lily – includes something extra, a P.S. line scribbled _I apologise for the trouble I have caused you, it was not my intention to be malicious. You’re more beautiful when you’re not plastering a fake smile._

Her breath hitches as she runs her eyes over the words. Once, twice…

When Yuusaku enters, it is to the image of her gaping at the line for the third time, he pokes at her arm with a raised eyebrow, and blinks in shock when she looks up and gasps _It’s Spectre_ at him. Snatching the letter from her hand, he skims through it with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, before looking up at her.

“I’ll let Kusanagi-san know.” Aoi stops him with a hand on his shoulder, and he looks back at her, confused. “No, I mean, yes you can tell him, but please let him keep the letters coming. I don’t think Spectre means any harm.” Yuusaku scrunches up his face in disagreement and Aoi tightens her grip, whispering, “please.”

She doesn’t waver away from his bright green eyes, and Yuusaku breaks the staring contest with a defeated nod, conceding to Aoi’s wishes.

Thus began Aoi looking back at her letters in a different light. The moment Yuusaku steps out of her apartment, she scrambles back to her room and flips open the box she had kept his letters in, looking through all of them with a renewed focus. Anything to understand Spectre more of a person… or to simply look for hints that it had been him, perhaps even find a single possibility that he might mean her harm.

She finds none of the latter, but many of the former. Her heart skips and warmth dances throughout her chest for some reason, and she clutches the letters close to her, closing her eyes.

Yuusaku comes back a few days later with a pinched expression on his face, letting himself in with his key to her apartment. Aoi looks up and him and doesn’t even feel a hint of embarrassment at being caught looking over the letters. He looks at Aoi’s face, the letter, and back to her face. Before he could open his mouth, Aoi blurts out.

“I want to talk to him.”

Her partner sighs in resignation and pinches his nose. He holds up one finger, and Aoi blinks in confusion.

“I’ll be right back.”

* * *

_“You didn’t tell me you and Aoi’s creep were related!”_

_“Creep? I should be offended on Spectre’s behalf,” the voice drawls over the phone, “we’re not related.” A pause, “we just happen to share the same address.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_“Yuusaku, please, it wouldn’t be right for me to let you know something Spectre wanted to keep a secret.”_

_“Never mind that,” Yuusaku interjects, voice stern, “just… tell Spectre to come to her apartment. I’ll get him permission to enter, Aoi has been dying to talk to him.”_

_“Not to scream at him, I hope. It is within my interest to protect Spectre’s hearing.”_

* * *

_plus one._ _creeping zinnias – the beginnings of love_

Aoi spends the entire three minutes and twenty-seven seconds from Spectre’s entry into the compound to the doorbell ringing by the door, wrangling her fingers and tiptoeing up and down in a rare bout of shown nervousness. She fumbles for the handle when the familiar chime rings out, and swings the door open with more force and speed than she ever had in her life.

Meeting Spectre’s light blue eyes, however, she freezes in her tracks, eyes wide. Everything that’s been bottled up in her heart threatens to spill forward, clogging in her throat and frustrating her. Of all the times her anxiety has to rear its ugly head –

“Can I come in and not get assaulted?” Spectre jokes, mouth twitching into a smile that Aoi’s never seen before in their admittedly small number of interactions. Aoi nods dazedly, stepping aside so that Spectre could enter the apartment. He looks around in a rare show of curiosity, and his hands are clenching and unclenching just slightly at his sides.

He’s nervous, Aoi realised belatedly. 

“Well, I hope this lives up to your expectations,” she offers, tentatively mirroring Spectre’s previous tone of voice in an effort to lighten the mood as they move towards the living room, feeling the tension in her body fade with each word, step and Spectre's presence beside her. Spectre, sharp as he is, picks up on it and chuckles.

“It’d be difficult for you to not live up to it when you’re the benchmark.” The words made her cheeks feel warm, and she takes a shaky breath.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You finally noticed?” 

That, surprisingly, didn’t come from Spectre’s mouth, but Yuusaku’s. Aoi’s expression pinches, her eyebrows twitching, twisting her delicately soft features as she turns back to look at her duo partner. That traitor who’s currently lazing on the couch, a packet of milk in his hand and straw half resting on his lips. Yuusaku looked as bored as ever, but Aoi’s known him since childhood, so the glint in his eyes didn’t escape her.

“Really, Aoi,” he drawls, pausing his light sips of milk, “I thought I was the obtuse one around.” 

She was about to stride towards him and show him just how obtuse she was when Spectre clears his throat. Flinching in her steps, she swivels back on the soles of her feet, eyes wide and face heating up further when she looked into soulful blue eyes, alight with a teasing amber. 

“You - you’re flirting with me?” Spectre merely looked amused, his nervousness seemingly disappearing, lips lifted in mirth. Aoi feels embarrassment flood her system in crashing waves. 

“I am your biggest fan after all, Aoi,” he winks and Aoi thinks she might’ve experienced just what Yuusaku meant by dying of embarrassment. 

“But... you... you said you weren’t interested in childish idols like me.” Yuusaku groans in the background and Aoi ignores him, fixing Spectre with a glare that even she realises lacked any real firepower behind. He really can’t talk, because at least Spectre had the guts to approach her straight up instead of whatever tsun-tsun-kuu-dere routine Kougami Ryouken consistently played at. Really, for a guy so well endowed - in all senses of the word - Yuusaku’s not-so-secret admirer blurs the line between cute admiration and pathetic stalking sometimes. 

“I said I wasn’t interested in childish idols like Blue Angel,” Spectre leans forward to smile at her teasingly, “but I am interested in Zaizen Aoi as a person.” He finishes his assault with a charming smile, leaving Aoi’s cheeks flaring hot.

Her heart skips a bit, and it’s suddenly racing while something lurches from her abdomen, spreading pleasant tingles throughout her body and making her fingers buzz.

“I,” she begins, hesitating with her breath caught in her throat, so she clears it, and tries again, eyes flickering between Spectre’s bright blue ones – how can someone’s eyes be that shade of blue? A mystery waiting to be solved – and his collar, feeling slightly dizzy and unsure. “I am interested in you too,” she pauses again, “just, in Spectre. Not the horrible critic who had said horrible words to Blue Angel’s face about her being superficial and fake.”

Feeling courage well up in her, she takes a deep breath and looks at him in the eyes, “so, about that garden café you mentioned in your letters..?” Spectre grins, boyish, young and carefree and it sets her entire being alight.

“I’d love to take you there, Aoi.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yuusaku, at the end of the fic maybe: I'm still here. 
> 
> Me, during the first part: Spectre that's not how you flirt - stop following Ryouken's bad examples. 
> 
> Ryouken is still a sad stalker, and Spectre joins his ranks when he realises he has a crush on Aoi. Spectre is really trying very hard, but at least he's not trying to play it cool like Ryouken (ryouken my precious baby what are you doing). He tries to be as straightforward as possible, even if he manages to come off as overly blunt and mean sometimes. 
> 
> About Ryouken and Yuusaku, Yuusaku doesn't seek revenge, so there's no animosity between them - he hasn't found out about Ryouken's involvement in the LI... yet... nor does he know about Spectre being a victim as well. However, he's still our resident genius, so he eventually finds out that Spectre and Ryouken are related (sneaky bois aren't so sneaky with camera feeds - Yuusaku figured it out when he realises the same hacker hacking the cameras in his apartment was also hacking Aoi's camera so that Spectre can leave letters anonymously). He hasn't had the chance to tell Aoi yet, obviously. *shrugs* 
> 
> Kudos/Comments are love!


End file.
